


(he's got a thing) about losing control

by allouette



Category: Chicago Med
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6948151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allouette/pseuds/allouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The temptation to shoot Connor a text is strong, but Will doesn’t want to seem desperate. But is it desperation to just ask what happened, find out if he’s okay, to say hey, fuck you too?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reads as follow up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6531460">Time and Again</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(he's got a thing) about losing control

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I should have finished this eons ago. I wish I could help the way my brain works but I have no control over it, unfortunately. Also have to say I am both happy and annoyed that the show didn't address Connor standing Will up. Continuity, what _is_ that?
> 
> Thanks as always to Sandra for the beta. Title from Toad the Wet Sprocket's Something to Say.

He shouldn’t be surprised, in all honesty. Standing in Molly’s with no sign of Connor, Will knows he shouldn’t feel hurt by his absence. The sting is still there though, buzzing beneath the surface as he slides onto a barstool and orders a beer, a mixture of hurt and disappointment that he isn’t sure what to do with. 

So they slept together. That doesn’t mean they’re - what, dating now? Definitely _not_ dating. The thought alone makes him snort into his bottle because Will _did not_ ask Connor out for drinks on the pretense of it being anything resembling a date, no way. That word didn’t enter his mind until now. 

But he thought they were friendlier, at least, getting along pretty well. He has caught Connor looking at him, seen the interest is still there now that he knows exactly what to look for. He wouldn’t look at someone _like that_ , with _those eyes_ , unless he wanted something from them.

Right?

The beer mixes with Will’s distress and rolls in his stomach because what the hell does he really know about Connor, anyway? He didn’t know until _very_ recently that there would be a snowball’s chance in hell that Connor could possibly even remotely be slightly interested in guys, and it still seems like an accident that he found out. Maybe he has no idea what he’s looking at when he’s trying to read Connor, when he is being shot those looks from across the room that last just a little bit too long, with eyes that are just a little bit too dark. Maybe he has no idea what it is that Connor really wants and this? Being stood up tonight? Is Connor’s way of letting him know that hey, not interested, man. Thanks, but no thanks.

No. Wrong. That _has_ to be wrong.

_Right?_

Will grits his teeth for a moment, frustrated with himself, his hand clenched around his bottle of beer. He’s better than this. Sitting here in a bar, stewing in his thoughts, angsting over a guy like a lovesick teenager. Ridiculous.

It’s just that he has such high hopes for this _thing_ that they have started, whatever it ends up being. He has things he wants to do with Connor, _to_ Connor – he has plans for that tie, that stupid fucking tie that taunts him every time he opens his closet door because he has it hanging right there, front and center. He thinks about the day somewhere down the road when they’re not so new at this, when things are comfortable and they can get away with doing this sort of thing, that he lets Connor find him wearing nothing but that tie. And how he’ll get great pleasure in wearing it to their next formal hospital function just to meet Connor’s eyes across the room and watch his face _burn_ at the memory.

They had just barely got started; they can’t possibly be finished yet.

*** 

Back at home after a quick shower, Will fixes himself a drink and gets ready to call it a night. He’s not usually one to drink a lot, especially at home alone, but all he really wanted out of tonight was a good buzz and maybe a hook up (definitely a hook up), so at least he can achieve one of those two goals here.

After last time with Connor, he restocked his kitchen; there’s more than one beer in the fridge now, different bottles of liquor in the cabinet, mixers to go with them. He still doesn’t have much when it comes to food but if anyone comes over thirsty, Will has them covered. With a tall glass in one hand, his phone in the other, he heads off to bed. 

The temptation to shoot Connor a text is strong, but Will doesn’t want to seem desperate. But is it desperation to just ask what happened, find out if he’s okay, to say hey, fuck you too? They’re all viable options and each one would definitely be something, desperate or not. With a sigh, Will tosses his phone aside because no, he’s not going to go there. He made the first move with the invitation out tonight; the ball is entirely in Connor’s court now.

Glass empty, Will is just about to reach over and turn off the light when he hears it, a barely there knock on his door. His first thought is Jay, that something has happened, and he’s out of the bed in a heartbeat. It’s both a relief and a surprise to open the door to Connor, disheveled and weary on the other side.

“Can I come in?” Connor asks, and it’s then that Will realizes a few moments of silence have ticked by without him speaking.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he answers and steps back, closes and locks the door after Connor steps inside, shrugging out of his coat.

“I’m sorry about Molly’s,” Connor says, and his voice is quiet, a little rough around the edges.

Will crosses his arms over his chest, wishing he had taken an extra second to grab a shirt. “It’s fine,” is what he says, like he hasn’t just spent the last couple of hours inside his own head, over thinking and driving himself crazy.

“It’s not, it’s...” Connor trails off and sighs, drags a hand over his face. His eyes are red, a little swollen, and Will doesn’t think he has ever seen him like this before. “I wanted to be there, I got in my car, and I just. I was so rattled, it hit me like a fucking _brick_ , I don’t know.”

“Connor, you don’t owe me an explanation—”

Because this isn’t something he would normally do, just open up like this. Will has never known Connor to talk about his _feelings_. He is all short, to the point answers and need to know basis. Will figures he must be really off kilter if he’s so willing to talk about what happened this way. 

But Connor continues on, like Will didn’t try to give him an out, like he didn’t even hear a word Will just said. “Her eyes opened and she just _looked_ at me. Grabbed my arm. Stared right into my eyes. I can’t even describe those three, maybe four seconds looking at her like that. And then she was gone.”

The silence lingers for a moment or two. Will lets that sink in, thinks about it and wonders what he would have done in Connor’s place, how he would have felt, a shiver running down his spine at the image in his head. He closes the distance between them, hesitating to reach out and touch. 

If he put his hand on Connor’s arm right now, would his touch feel like hers?

“There was nothing you could do.”

“I know. It was just...” Connor pauses for a long beat before he shakes his head a little, drags both of his hands through his hair like he’s still trying to clear it all out of his head. “It’s just one of those things, you know? One of those cases. Never seen anything like it.”

Will nods, tries not to snort. Of course he knows those cases. The kind that stick with you no matter how well you compartmentalize, the kind you can’t leave at the hospital, the kind that get under your skin, that have you questioning right and wrong, the list goes on and on. All too well, he would say. The whole hospital would say about him, probably. They’re here right now, together, because of one of those cases. 

Regardless of the outcome, that’s a dark spot on his record that he doesn’t care to think about. Especially with Connor here with him now.

“Still want that drink?” Will asks, hoping to lead them in a more favorable direction, one that involves a lot less thinking.

It’s Connor’s turn to nod and he scrubs at his face again, his eyes. “That’d be great, thanks,” he says with a sigh. Then throws out, “hey, Will?” just as Will heads off toward the kitchen, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

Nothing happens for a beat, the both of them silent. Will waits for Connor’s move before making good on his promise of alcohol, and after another second, Connor steps up and reaches out. A warm, tentative hand touches Will’s shoulder; it’s still for a moment, heat radiating where skin meets skin before sliding around to the back of his neck, then Connor is pulling him in.

Will doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Connor, his hold tight, strong. It looks like a simple hug but feels like so much more, and it lingers for a long minute, any remaining walls, resolve, slowly crumbling until there is nothing left standing between them, nothing holding them back. 

It’s kind of amazing how easy it is to just _breathe_ , and as Will is slow to ease back, he’s pretty sure Connor can feel it too, now that all of their previous anxiety, the weight of other emotions, has melted into warmth and comfort. Will flashes a small, crooked smile, gives Connor’s shoulder a squeeze as he says, “let me get you that drink now, yeah?”

He meets Connor at the couch with two glasses and a bottle tucked under his arm. They sit there side by side and let the comfortable silence linger as they sip their drinks. It’s a little reminiscent of the last time they were at Molly’s drinking together, only now there’s a solid line of heat pressed against Will’s hip and thigh, down his leg where they’re sitting closer than necessary. The alcohol is the same though, rich and spicy, burning on the way down in the most pleasant of ways. With the drinks he already has under his belt, Will is quick to feel the buzz after only a few sips. And with Connor so close, it makes him itch, a nagging little feeling right there under his skin and all he can think about is how much he _wants_.

He starts to feel like he has come full circle, back to going a little bit crazy only now it’s in a completely different way.

Every few moments, Will glances over at Connor out of the corner of his eyes but the view remains the same – he still looks exhausted but by the second glass, his body seems to go loose, sinking down into more of a sprawl. His eyes are hooded, blinking slowly, and Will wonders how close he is to falling asleep right there with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He’s about to ask if Connor needs to crash but before he can open his mouth, Connor is knocking their knees together, letting his leg rest heavily against Will’s.

“Hey,” he says and his voice is chest deep, slightly raspy, finally looking over at Will for the first time since they sat down.

“Hey,” Will echoes, hope and desire curling in his stomach because the last thing he wants to say right now is goodnight, even if Connor is two seconds away from dropping.

“Thanks for this. For… letting me in.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Will says and Connor just shrugs a shoulder, reaching to set his glass down on the table. “Do you need to—” Will starts but then Connor’s mouth is on his and the concept of words ceases to exist in Will’s brain. It’s the soft press of lips to begin with, warm and inviting, until Connor lets out a sigh and dives right back in, deepens it with the tilt of his head.

It is so much better than Will remembers and even more, the way Connor swoops in and takes control, sucks the air straight from Will’s lungs. He knows it’s what Connor needs right now, after the day he has had - to feel like he’s the one in charge, to have all of the control, when the sting of losing every bit of it, including his patient, is still fresh.

He feels Connor make that push and then they’re both shifting, stretching out along the length of the couch. Will almost wonders if this is too good to be true, the way Connor kisses him with such intensity, fierce and hungry, when not ten minutes ago he appeared to be on the verge of passing out right then and there. Part of him wants to suggest moving to the bed, especially after he gets the first delicious grind of Connor’s hips down against his own, feels the hot line of Connor’s cock trapped in his pants, but as much as Will has been craving this, he knows this is all for Connor right now. He gets all of the say when he comes to where and when, how fast or slow this might end up going. So instead Will focuses on the buttons on the front of Connor’s shirt, lets out a groan when Connor’s teeth scrape down the side of his neck.

Will gets swept up in a whirlwind after that first bite. If he wasn’t already flat on his back, he would’ve fallen hard at Connor’s command, his hands and mouth seeming to be everywhere, all at once. There’s nothing Will can really do other than close his eyes and hold on for the ride, let Connor have this, whatever it is that he feels like he needs. It seems a little wrong to think of it that way when Will is the one with his blood singing, lost in a rush of pure heat, sharp suction when Connor’s mouth closes around his cock. He loses his breath and chokes on a groan, has no idea how long he can last when he feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut already. 

“ _Christ_ , Rhodes,” Will manages to grit out and Connor answers his with a groan of his own, deep in his throat and vibrating around the cock in his mouth. It’s fucking _hot_ and all Will can do is curse, though if it sounds a lot like a whine, he’s man enough to admit that this is a pretty fucking good reason for it.

Connor is relentless, his mouth the single greatest thing Will has ever experienced in his life, and he can no longer say he hates Connor’s sharp tongue because no, fuck no, he’s in love with it. He wants it now, every day, for the rest of his life. And when it’s finally too fucking much, Connor’s hands clamp down on Will’s hips just in time, pinning him down against the couch as he swallows Will down as he comes, his world going black.

*** 

“I really feel like that should’ve been the other way around.”

“Don’t.”

“Seriously.”

“Will.”

“Oh, come on,” Will says, propping himself up on his elbow. Connor just rolls his head to the side and looks at him, his eyebrows raised. It’s ridiculous, and Will doesn’t understand it – Connor’s reaction, his face, any of it. “Are you saying you don’t want me to return the favor?”

Connor rolls his eyes, adjusts the pillow behind his head. “Did I say that?”

“You didn’t really say much of anything.”

“Okay.”

The silence lingers, stretches out for a few long moments until Will can’t stand it anymore, although he thinks Connor would be perfectly fine with silence for the rest of the night. All the time, even.

“So…”

Connor sighs, but he’s smiling, just slightly. Will can see it even if he is trying to hide it or fight it. “I’m not going to say no, if you want to insist.”

It’s Will’s turn to smile, big and bright, even though what he really wants to do is smack Connor with a pillow and tell him to stop being difficult and accept a fucking blow job already, jesus christ. 

“I will say, though—” Will starts as he shifts over, straddling Connor’s thighs and Connor just groans, throws an arm over his eyes. “Hey, this is important,” he says and Connor’s arm slides back, his eyes giving Will the silent command to continue. “I asked you out, got stood up and all, kinda harsh. I think that means the next time we get together is all on you.”

“Really.” It’s not even a question, but Will nods anyway, traces a finger over the ink on the inside of Connor’s bicep. “And this is… what?”

“This is... Something else. Come on, you know what I mean, don’t be difficult on purpose.”

They share a look as a few lingering seconds tick by until Connor reaches out, slides his hands up over Will’s thighs. “Okay.”

It is Will’s turn to roll his eyes because he knows that is pretty much as good as he is going to get from Connor – the man of many words, when he wants to be, anyway. And he figures, who needs words right now anyway as he leans in and presses a kiss to Connor’s mouth. Why talk when they can do this?


End file.
